


The Bright Side of Dark Magic

by FarishtaFyre



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: But let's not think about it, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone deserves happy endings, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, Possible Sad Ending, Spoilers, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), if you think about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarishtaFyre/pseuds/FarishtaFyre
Summary: Hubert was prodigious with reason-based magic. After all, he could use it to pave the way for his liege. Yet, he kept on finding himself drawn to the petulant faith-based magic. It seemed utterly useless: there were alternatives for healing & restoration.Perhaps it had to do with the first time he found Ferdinand choking back sobs...
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 1
Kudos: 58





	The Bright Side of Dark Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! As usual, I'm avoiding studying and decided to write ~9500 words of fiction. I wasn't really into Hubert & Ferdinand as a couple for a while but as I complete my 7th playthrough of the game (completed each route on Hard + working through the routes again on Maddening) I realize that they mesh well together :)
> 
> Please heed the warnings. Some of the content can be triggering so take the proper precautions.

Ferdinand von Aegir was annoying. That was what Hubert von Vestra would say _on a good day_ when he was fully caffeinated. Hubert could still remember the first mock battle that occurred when that new professor joined the academy—and subsequently enthralled Lady Edelgard. It was Hubert’s mission to ensure that his liege did not stray from her path and if it mean disposing of anyone who distracted her—then so be it. But what was he supposed to do when there was a mosquito constantly nipping at him? Lady Edelgard had explicitly forbidden Hubert from even hexing Ferdinand despite his annoying clamoring. If there was anything that competed with the annoyingness that Ferdinand presented—perhaps it was the brightness of faith-based magic that eluded him.

“Ferdinand, Hubert. If the enemy comes, stop them.” Edelgard had delivered her commands as the Black Eagles faced off against the Blue Lions and the Golden Deer. Hubert always admired how Edelgard’s charisma could inspire even the most crestfallen student. She was going to be an excellent leader.

“Leave it to us, although I could do this on my own.” Ferdinand had boasted, prompting a scoff from Hubert. How was this noble so _daft_? Hubert genuinely wondered if someone had beaten him to the punch and hexed Ferdinand enough to rob him of whatever cognitive energy he should have had.

“Heh.” Hubert rolled his eyes. “Clearly not, or Her Highness would not ask me to watch your back.” There was this oddly enjoyable spark that would erupt between Ferdinand and Hubert whenever they quipped at each other. Edelgard would sometimes remind Hubert to ‘play nice’ because they had to “play-at-school.”

“I will fight on the front lines! I can stop the enemy’s advance with grace!” Ferdinand had retorted, delivering a ferocious glower toward the darker-haired man. Hubert entertained the righteous fury from the other man—after all, if Ferdinand could vex Hubert so much then it was only fair that Hubert could sneak in a few punches, right? Edelgard had pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled sharply, clearly exasperated.

“Hmph. I suppose I’ve no choice but to provide cover.” Hubert had quietly groaned. He could feel Lady Edelgard’s gratitude from afar, like it was a long-range faith incantation. The rest of the mock battle had been nothing short of a disaster. The professor’s skills were “rather strong” as Hubert later confessed. Could this pose a problem in the future? Hubert had no doubt about it. But until Lady Edelgard deemed the mysterious professor to be a threat—Hubert would have to take his own measures to obtain information about the green-haired mercenary. If there was anything the two had in common, Hubert learned it was a shared disdain for using faith-based magic.

But Hubert’s grievances with the new professor could hardly hold a flame to his utter _disdain_ for the von Aegir noble. It was like the orange-haired man was committed to raising Hubert’s blood pressure to a dangerous level—even more dangerous considering the likely unhealthy amount of coffee he consumed. There was the day that Hubert was reading _Cichol’s General Treatise on Mercenaries_ to cover local tactics (as nothing surpassed the _Hresvelg Treatise on War_ as a general study on strategy). Ferdinand noticed him in the library and plopped himself right across from the mage as if they were _friends_.

“Ah! Hubert!” Ferdinand announced his intention to annoy the dark mage. “I had just finished speaking with Lorenz Gloucester about the features of nobility. I consider him to be the very model of noble comportment.” Hubert simply glanced at Ferdinand from the edge of his book, hoping his glower would scare the other man away. It failed.

“We talked about a certain noble who had caused a stir at one of the local taverns. For someone of status to make such a scene! It is such a disgrace.” Ferdinand spoke as if he was chit-chatting with a friend. Hubert almost wanted to laugh at that sentiment. They were _hardly_ anything beyond classmates. Hubert had _no_ friends. He could play nice, but the only person that actually mattered to him was Her Highness.

“I told Lorenz that we can benefit from crossing the threshold and learning more about regular folk. We scarcely understand the reality of their lives.” Ferdinand continued as if Hubert wasn’t staring him down. “Lorenz and I shared some odd misconceptions that we had heard about nobles. For instance, I have heard that some believe we have horns growing from our heads. Lorenz informed me that when he visited a village in his father’s territory that a boy asked him if he had a tail. Can you believe the dissonance that exists between nobles and townsfolk?!”

“Ferdinand.” Hubert finally spoke, intentionally lacing his words with as much ice as possible. “If you would like me to find a spell that would produce horns from your scalp, I will happily do so if it means permanently silencing your voice.” Ferdinand scrunched his nose, confusion coloring his face.

“Why would I want horns from my…” Ferdinand mumbled before realization hit him similar to when the new professor’s sword hit him during the mock battle. “Oh. You want me to stop talking to you.”

“And here I thought you were completely brainless.” Hubert chided. Ferdinand narrowed his eyes and likely muttered something _improper_ under his breath. Still, despite the other noble’s utter obliviousness, Ferdinand conceded and left Hubert to his reading. If that would have been the last time Ferdinand interrupted him—Hubert could have lived the rest of his life in peace.

But no. That blasted professor _wanted_ to share a meal with Hubert in the dining hall. And as if a higher power was cursing him—the professor had also invited Ferdinand von Aegir.

“Why are we seated beside each other? I cannot enjoy my food with you sitting here.” Ferdinand complained, stabbing his meal harshly with the spears of his fork.

“Just shut up and eat.” Hubert hissed. He had inwardly hoped that this obvious display of disdain for each other would keep him away from the professor’s invites. Like wildfire ravenously scorching through a drought-afflicted field, soon enough everyone at Garreg Mach knew about how much the two nobles from the Empire despised each other.

So when Hubert suddenly found himself comforting the noble, he wondered how exactly he had wandered into this uncharted territory.

* * *

That night, Hubert’s mood had already been tested. He had run into Professor Hanneman who had even commented that it was rather rare for the two of them to see each other with no one else around. Then the crest-curious professor had to run his mouth:

“I was good friends with your father, you know. Perhaps this is fate, eh? Of course, when I left the Empire, I broke off my friendship with him...and, well, everyone else.” Professor Hanneman spoke aloud, as if taking a stroll down some memory’s pathway.

“You were right to sever ties with such a miserable piece of filth.” Hubert spat. It was oddly amusing that Professor Hanneman didn’t seem affronted or offended by Hubert’s disrespect toward his father.

“Sharp words, Hubert. Contemptible though your father may be, he is still your father.” Professor Hanneman patronized the student. Hubert’s heart rate spiked, and he felt this urge to pull out a tome and find the darkest magic he could find to silence the older man’s voice. The two men had barely mustered a pleasant conversation. Hanneman talked about the Insurrection of the Seven and Hubert reminded him about how his deplorable father spat on a legacy of loyalty and devotion that had lasted a thousand years. Needless to say, Hubert’s mood was sorely damaged.

As if sprinkling rocks on the festering wound, Hubert remembered that he had to study for the _ridiculous_ faith-based magic examination that was on the schedule. He was not sure _why_ their professor thought Hubert could balance his focus in reason-based offensive magic with the hardly worthwhile pursuit of healing magic.

Hubert hated the brightness associated with that white magic. He made it a point to elude any attempt that would bring him to choir practice. He preferred vulneraries and concoctions to the annoying bright light of white magic. In a way, Hubert reasoned that it reminded him of the annoying smile that Ferdinand often carried. Both faith-based magic and Ferdinand vexed him from their utter delusion that they could actually leave an impact—well an impact other than a headache.

It was close to the apex of the evening when Hubert finally made his return to his dormitory room. He lived on the second floor of the monastery where his room was settled in between Lady Edelgard’s room and the boisterous Caspar von Bergliez’s room. It was not the worst rooming situation. He had overheard the boys in the Blue Lions house complain about Sylvain Gautier’s promiscuous nightly activities. But if Hubert walked too far past his own room, he would smell the familiar nauseating smell of tea from Ferdinand’s bedroom.

Perhaps that was the first sign that something was amiss. The usual scent of boiling water and tea leaves soaking together was absent. Hubert was almost tempted to investigate if Ferdinand had suddenly succumbed to an unexpected death. He kept somewhat regular rounds on all of the Black Eagles. He knew about Petra’s favor for smoked meat, hunting daggers, sunflowers, and exotic spices. He knew about how Dorothea loudly squealed over gemstone beads, stylish hair clips, and books of sheet music. He even had discovered some intelligence about the reclusive Bernadetta: she collected watering cans, armored stuffed bears, books of sheet music, and pitcher plants. So it was to be expected that Hubert would keep tabs on every member in his house.

Using his shadowy stealth, Hubert crept past the loud pounding of weights crashing against the ground in Caspar’s room. He noticed that there was a glow from a candle present in Ferdinand’s room but there was silence—which was odd. Ferdinand constantly lectured the other nobles about “fire safety” and leaving their candles lit when they were not in their room. Ferdinand even tried to petition the professors to practice “fire evacuation drills” with the nobles but luckily everyone else shot down his idea.

Hmph. Maybe Hubert was just looking for something to distract him from his conversation with the professor. Ferdinand was probably studying for an exam or reading some tale about nobility. Hubert was about to pivot on his heel and make his way back into his bedroom when he heard it: a choked sob.

Like Marianne had cast a _Blizzard_ spell on him, Hubert froze. Was that Ferdinand? Surely the noble couldn’t be in danger, right? They were “safe” in the monastery. But what if Ferdinand—in his utter stupidity—had somehow hurt himself? Hubert tried to rationalize that this was for Lady Edelgard: after all, she needed to prove her dominance and having an addled member of the house would only impair their performance.

Knocking with his gloved hand, Hubert waited for a response. The stifled cry had been muffled, as if trying to hide the fact that someone was in the bedroom. Was someone trying to keep Ferdinand silent? If the situation didn’t have the potential to be grave, Hubert would have wondered how the assailant could have succeeded to silence the annoying noble.

“Ferdinand.” Hubert’s voice echoed against the door.

“Go away, Hubert.” Ferdinand’s voice was different: like something had cracked and the annoying hints had drifted away into the air.

“Open the door, Ferdinand.” Hubert lowered his voice, hoping not to attract any attention from Lorenz or Caspar whose rooms were adjacent to Ferdinand’s room. “I do not think the monastery would prefer it if I used _Mire_ to break open your door.”

“Just leave me alone, Hubert.” Ferdinand’s voice was muffled. “Please.” There was a strain to Ferdinand’s voice that stirred something in Hubert’s chest. Glancing around the hallway to make sure no one saw him using his dark magic to break into Ferdinand’s locked room, Hubert whispered a spell to summon tentacle-like shadows. The spell worked well to sneak into the small crevice of the lock, licking at the gears until it figured out what specific combination of movements would unlock the door. Without much time, Hubert had unlocked the door.

Before Ferdinand could react, Hubert swiftly stepped in and closed the door behind him. Ferdinand was sitting in his bed, his normally bright face dampened by rampant tears flowing down his face. There was an obvious bruise staining his face although from Ferdinand’s trembling, Hubert suspected that there could be more damage.

“Ferdinand.” Hubert didn’t say anything else as he slowly walked over to the other noble. Hubert was never good at this part. Whenever he patched up Lady Edelgard’s wounds, the situation seemed transactional and professional. This—whatever this was—seemed different. “Let me see.”

“No, no.” Ferdinand mumbled, looking away from Hubert. It was almost childish: Ferdinand turning his face away from Hubert as if that would make Hubert forget about the black-and-purple bruise on Ferdinand’s face. “Nothing is wrong. Just leave.”

“You do know that I am not an idiot.” Hubert stood in front of Ferdinand, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let me see the bruise.”

“It is nothing, Hubert—”

“Let me see, please.” Hubert softened his voice as he interrupted Ferdinand’s protest. The other noble was as stunned as Hubert by the gentleness that colored Hubert’s words. Finally, Ferdinand calmed some of his tremblings to turn his face the other way so Hubert could see the wound.

It was a pretty fresh bruise, from what Hubert gathered. He vaguely remembered reading about the physiology behind bruises during one of his faith lessons (that he abhorred). Bruises happened when there was a rupture of blood vessels within the skin as a result of direct trauma, with the surface of the skin remaining intact. Shuffling through his mind, Hubert tried to think: where could Ferdinand have received the bruise? Sure, the noble ran his mouth incessantly and it was no surprise that he annoyed nearly half of the student body. But no one would _actually_ physically assault the noble. As petulant as he was, Hubert knew that there was this oddly positive drive that compelled Ferdinand to act as frustrating as he did.

Then a memory quickly resurfaced. Lady Edelgard had mentioned it to him in passing that Ferdinand had to return home to discuss some matters with Duke Ludwig Aegir. Hubert and Edelgard loathed the portly balding man. He had masterminded the Insurrection of the Seven which had stripped Emperor Ionius IX of much of his power, thereby reducing him to a figurehead. Since that event, Ludwig effectively ruled the Empire from behind the throne and worked with those _monsters_ to perform experiments. Why did Ferdinand have to return home?

Right. Hubert remembered now. It had to do with Hyrm. Hubert had basically memorized the history of the Adrestian Empire by this point. In Imperial Year 1167, House Hyrm—which was located in the easternmost corner of the Empire—attempted to defect from the Empire to the Alliance out of opposition to Emperor Ionius IX’s policy of power centralization. The Imperial Army quashed the rebellion and wiped out the main bloodline of House Hyrm. _That knight_ inherited the title of Viscount Hrym. Since then, Hubert and Edelgard had discovered that the Empire—under Duke Aegir’s command—ruled over the Hyrm territory. They had imposed harsh taxes upon the people and made their lives very challenging.

That girl that Edelgard liked from the Golden Deer House—Lysithea von Ordelia—had been confronted by Ferdinand about something political. She revealed to Ferdinand about the state of affairs in the Hyrm territory which had made Ferdinand upset. Edelgard had revealed this to Hubert during one of their clandestine meetings: she had used it as another example of the corrupt status of nobles in this wretched land.

“You met with your father earlier today, did you not?” Hubert asked despite knowing the answer. Ferdinand didn’t even seem surprised that Hubert had deduced that much. “I have to admit that my aptitude in reason far outweighs my abilities with faith. But hold still.” Hubert invited himself to sit beside Ferdinand on the bed and moved his hand toward Ferdinand’s bruise.

“N-No.” Ferdinand lied. “I simply ran into a door.” Hubert hid his exasperation as he muttered the incantation for a simple _Heal_ spell. Using his focus, the blood vessels started to repair themselves and the black-and-blue coloring started to fade away into the pale skin.

“Thank you, Hubert. I hope that I do not have to impress upon you the reasons for keeping this minor injury under wraps, correct?” Ferdinand looked away from Hubert as he spoke, as if ashamed by his own words. For all Hubert knew about the other noble, Ferdinand was _never_ afraid to show his opinion and feelings. It was _stupid_ to Hubert…but it made Ferdinand who he was. For him to hide something—it seemed as odd as Hubert learning to use axes.

Hubert and Ferdinand sat in an awkward silence until Hubert finally excused himself. To his surprise (and delight), there was a bag of Dadga imported coffee beans by his dorm room the next day. It didn’t take more than a few moments to deduce who had left the gift by his room.

* * *

“These bruises are too fresh to be from when you allegedly fell off your house last week. Too fresh to be from when you allegedly ran into a door the week before.” Hubert hummed as he recited the incantation for _Heal_ again. He wasn’t fond of using faith magic: it felt too light and bright for his soul. Perhaps other students—like Mercedes or Marianne—could channel that magic properly. But it was hard for Hubert to do anything beyond the basics, and he _hated_ feeling incompetent.

“Um.” Ferdinand was uncharacteristically silent as he looked away while Hubert channeled the white magic toward the oval-shaped bruise on Ferdinand’s arm.

“Just tell me who is doing this to you.” Hubert suspected that he already knew the answer. It was not mere coincidence that Ferdinand had returned from another trip home. It seemed to be a casual visit, as it was the near the end of the current moon. Most students tried to visit home every and now then. Well—most students besides Hubert. Ferdinand shivered from the magical touch, and Hubert found himself brushing back a loose strand of hair from Ferdinand’s face. That might have been the wrong action as Ferdinand suddenly pushed Hubert away.

“You…” Ferdinand whispered. “You must be messing with me.”

“Am I?” Hubert mused, his tone easy despite the accusation. He would normally have no objections to Caspar pulling a childish prank on Ferdinand. Ferdinand’s upper lip curled away from his perfectly brushed teeth, snapping as he returns a familiar glower to Hubert.

“Yes. You must be.” Ferdinand spoke with a faltering conviction as if he was trying to convince himself of this illusion. “You told me during lecture once that you would rather work with almost anyone else but you will do only what needed to be done.” Hubert figured that Ferdinand was right: he probably did say that.

“Must you be so dramatic?” Hubert chuckled as he finished the spell. “We are part of the same house. Lady Edelgard would be beside herself if you were unable to perform on the battlefield.”

“Is that…” Ferdinand mumbled, thinning his lips as he weighed the decisions of his words. “Is that the only reason you are attending to my wounds? For Her Highness?”

“I suppose.” Hubert feigned nonchalance although the question stung him with the wrath of a hornet. Why was he sitting in the dimly lit room with someone who annoyed every fiber of his being? Why was he subjecting himself to the _disgusting_ vulnerability of faith-based magic? Whenever he approached a professor for lessons on the magic, he reasoned that it was to protect Her Highness. After all, that was his main goal. Yet…Lady Edelgard was more than capable of applying her own salves. Her armor nearly defended her against every possible strike.

“Do you…” Ferdinand’s voice dropped to match the weakly flickering flame of the candle. “Do you subject yourself to Lady Edelgard because you wish to seek her hand in marriage?” If the previous comment stunned Hubert, this comment forcibly pushed Hubert away from Ferdinand. The black-haired mage immediately stood up and dusted himself off, although the latter gesture was nothing other than superficial given how clean Ferdinand kept his quarters.

“Your inability to face reality is just another reason you are inferior to Lady Edelgard.” Hubert hissed. “Concocting fantasies that would only harm Her Highness’s ambitions is—” Like the universe was signaling to Hubert that he was treading dangerous waters, the candle’s flame extinguished suddenly.

“I think you should leave.” Ferdinand made no motions to reignite the wick. “I thank you for your time.” Hubert couldn’t describe _why_ he felt frustrated: it felt like something was screaming inside of his chest. He wanted to say _something_ but he didn’t know what he wanted to say.

So, without any further words, Hubert left the room and camouflaged into the shadows as he returned to his room.

* * *

Hubert did his best to avoid being alone with Ferdinand. It seemed like Ferdinand had the same goals as the two would quickly pivot on their heel to walk in the other direction if they were to ever cross paths. Naturally, Edelgard noticed _something_ even if she couldn’t specifically describe it. Fortunately for Hubert—his annoyance and frustration with Ferdinand had become somewhat of a recurrent joke across the campus. While Edelgard’s violet eyes tested Hubert’s resolve, she was merciful in her questioning.

When Ferdinand _actually_ fell off his horse during a training session, Hubert found himself offering to carry the other noble back to his room from the infirmary. Professor Manuela had strictly shackled Ferdinand to bed rest while his humerus—the bone of his arm that articulated proximally with his scapula to form the shoulder joint—healed. Initially, Ferdinand had refused _any_ help but when Edelgard, Dorothea, and Petra joined forces to persuade Ferdinand to retire to his room—the noble could hardly stain his chivalry.

As the duo reached the second floor of the dormitory (oh, how Hubert _wished_ he could display his latent _Warp_ magic but Edelgard had strictly forbidden it), Ferdinand finally spoke.

“Sorry.” Ferdinand’s mumble was barely audible.

“You gave me an excuse to avoid stable duty.” Hubert calmly replied. “Consider your debt repaid.” Hubert used his long legs to kick open the door to Ferdinand’s room—much to the other noble’s annoyance—and let Ferdinand lean on him as they wobbled to Ferdinand’s bed.

“You have earned your reprieve, Hubert.” Ferdinand stated as he winced once Hubert pulled away. “You may leave.”

“If you are to rest, surely you must change out of your training gear.” Hubert furrowed his brow, an odd heat pooling in his body. “I cannot imagine resting in such gear would be comfortable or suitable for the healing process.”

“Well…you are here. How am I to change?” Ferdinand protested, a sprinkle of a blush touching his nose.

“We are both adults, Ferdinand. I will simply look away.” Hubert turned around so his back was toward Ferdinand. He was right in front of Ferdinand’s desk which was immaculately organized. “May I take a seat while you spent the next century changing?”

“Do whatever you wish, Hubert.” Ferdinand scoffed as he slowly moved to his closet. Hubert seated himself and drummed his fingers against the desk. Ferdinand kept everything so well-organized. It was in sharp contrast to someone like Claude von Riegan, for instance, who had a dozen books scattered around his room. The books were neatly stacked on top of each other, and Ferdinand’s notebooks were placed at the other corner of the desk. Everything had an intentional location. Well…everything except for _one_ thing.

There was an edge of a piece of parchment paper peeking out from the edge of two notebooks. As Ferdinand grunted in the background while he changed, Hubert slowly reached for the oddly placed parchment. Ferdinand’s smudged handwriting was apparent—not that Hubert had _recognized_ the other noble’s handwriting. It was just mere coincidence that he could identify it. His curiosity taking over his usual restraint, Hubert pulled out the parchment to take a look at what could have been tucked away so recklessly.

_Father_. Hubert froze. Was this a letter from Ferdinand to Duke Aegir? As if the goddess herself had suddenly appeared to freeze time around him, Hubert pushed himself to read the rest of the words on the parchment.

_I understand that you have to take it out on me. You have to break me with your words to remind me of my worth. It did not take long until I started to crack on the surface. My lack of fortitude and my immense vulnerability—which you commonly point out—are my biggest vices. I understand that you have to grasp my weaknesses in your hands to choke me and strangle me. Wrapping me in your rage is the clearest way to strengthen my resolve as your successor. I would never do anything to bring our family shame._

_You must be right. After your hands finish their assault on my skin or after your soldiers finish using me as their training dummy—your fatherly words coax me back to reality. You remind me that this is for my own growth. Sometimes, if the wine has been particularly strong, you mumble words seeking forgiveness. They surely irritate my wounds like salt but I am your son. I have to respect you._

“Hubert?!” Ferdinand’s voice pierced through Hubert’s attention, catching the normally stoic man off-guard. “How dare you peruse through my personal documents?!” Hubert sat by idly as Ferdinand snatched the parchment from Hubert’s grasp. Finally turning around, Hubert was met with such a strange display of sights that he wasn’t sure what he _first_ noticed.

Was it the anger glowing around Ferdinand’s body—like the enthrallment of heat in a cruel winter night? Was it the curves of the muscles clearly carved into Ferdinand’s skin? Or was it the scars that covered his abdomen and back?

“Did _he_ do this to you?” Hubert hissed, unable to control the venom in his voice. Ferdinand’s face held a delicate mixture of fear, confusion, shame, and anger. It was like there were conflicting feelings that warred amongst each other for dominance in Ferdinand’s caricature.

“I-I cannot answer that.” Ferdinand stammered as Hubert stood up from his seat, looming slightly over the other noble. “I-I must ask you to leave.”

“Ferdinand.” Hubert was not sure why his mouth suddenly felt dry. “I know that you and I hardly meet eye-to-eye but this is not the time to be hiding information from me.”

“I…” Ferdinand’s internal conflict continued to rise from the apparent emotional cascades running through his eyes. “I apologize but I promised…” Ferdinand looked away, failing to finish his sentence.

“You do not need to be apologizing.” Hubert’s voice dropped low. “Is it Duke Aegir?” Ferdinand’s eyes widened and he adamantly shook his head, covering his face with his hands.

“Ferdinand.” Hubert softened his voice. “Tell me.”

“I-I cannot.” Ferdinand whimpered softly. “I have to maintain my noble appearance. I promised Father—”

“So it is him.” Hubert’s hand rested on Ferdinand’s bare arm. He was not surprised: after all, he had been suspecting this since the first time. Ferdinand looked away in shame, tears clearly forming at the corner of his normally bright eyes.

“I know what you must be thinking.” Ferdinand whispered. “I am a coward. A disgrace. A failure. An idiot. I deserve this. I know it. _He_ reminds me.”

“I would hope you would not insult my intelligence like that.” Hubert shook his head. “Ferdinand, I might find you annoying and petulant and even childish. But…” The unfinished sentence hung around in the air as Ferdinand finally found the courage to look at Hubert directly.

“You remind me of someone.” Hubert thought of his liege and the pain hidden behind her violet eyes. “You have been deeply hurt by someone you trusted. Yet you continue to actively choose the path of kindness. You have been pushed through cycles of pain and sorrow but you continue to smile.”

“I…” Ferdinand was definitely blushing from the uncharacteristically nice words from Hubert.

“I imagine that it must take strength to let yourself be soft and kind.” Hubert gently drew a circle into Ferdinand’s bare arm. “The same arms that must block hits from your father are the same hands that secretly gift coffee to someone you claim to despise.” Ferdinand looked away again, the intensity of the situation hitting him. He made a sound that sounded like a strangled cry and Hubert could sense that Ferdinand was doing his best _not_ to cry.

“I am…proud of you, Ferdinand.” Hubert confessed. “You carry this heavy weight on your shoulders, but you choose to inspire others to be the best versions of themselves that they can be.” There was this draw to Ferdinand—like some type of spell that manipulated gravity—that pulled Hubert closer to the auburn-haired boy. His pain hidden beneath the veneer of kindness paralleled Her Highness. She chose to transform her pain into a plan for revolution to save the world. Ferdinand chose to transform his pain into inspiring others to be better nobles—perhaps better than the noble that he saw himself as?

“Please do not say anything to anyone.” Ferdinand pleaded. “Please, Hubert.”

“I will not tell anyone.” Hubert promised.

“Not even Her Highness.”

“I promise.” Hubert nodded, earning some shock from Ferdinand. “This secret will remain between us until you would like me to tell someone.”

“N-No.” Ferdinand shook his head. “I-It is part of the process, you see. My father is incredibly stressed. And if I do not pass a certification exam or if something occurs at the monastery that distracts him from his job—it is only fair that I have to bear punishment for that.”

“Is this what he told you?” Hubert whispered, hoping to distract Ferdinand’s attention as he gently moved his hand away from Ferdinand’s arm. He held his hand slightly above the faded scars on Ferdinand’s back, hoping to keep the other boy stuck in conversation.

“Well, it must be the reason.” Ferdinand suggested. “If I am to lead Lady Edelgard correctly, I must carve the way for myself first. Did you not say once that I am clearly inferior to Lady Edelgard?” Hubert was starting to become immune to the barbed jabs from Ferdinand as he hardly recoiled from that comment.

“Yes.” Hubert nodded. “But that is comparing your mastery in reason-based magic to my mastery in lance-based combat. It is possible to be merely adequate at one thing but excel in another facet. It would be erroneous for me to put myself in the middle of combat where I had to rely on hand-to-hand combat.”

“What I am saying.” Hubert didn’t even realize that he was talking more than he intended. The distance between him and Ferdinand was decreasing as he starting to slowly trace the scars on Ferdinand’s back. “Is that you have your own strength. You may not be the Emperor. But you are Ferdinand von Aegir.”

Ferdinand actually let out a chuckle—a chuckle that was warm and not mirthless like the ones Hubert usually reserved for interactions with Edelgard’s uncle.

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir.” Ferdinand nodded. With him distracted, Hubert did his best to recall what Professor Manuela had taught him in class the other week: the incantation for the _Recover_ spell. It was the most complicated faith-based magic that Hubert had encountered but he was willing to try to channel the appropriate focus and energy for Ferdinand.

“W-Wait, Hubert, are you—” Ferdinand was cut off by the glowing aura from Hubert’s hand on his back. While Hubert couldn’t directly see the scars disappearing into the skin, he guessed that his magic was working from the glowing in Ferdinand’s eyes. “I-I…”

“It is nice to hear you silent.” Hubert tittered. “Easier to focus.” There was silence in the room as Hubert continued to mentally channel the spiritual magic. He probably did not need to bring Ferdinand’s bare torso closer to his body, but it couldn’t hurt to decrease the distance that the magic had to travel, right?

As Hubert’s hands traveled across Ferdinand’s torso—for _medical_ purposes only—Hubert avoided eye contact with the other noble. From the flushing around the auburn-haired noble’s neck, Hubert could guess that there was a bright blush eagerly waiting to greet Hubert. And for some reason, despite his lack of ability to prophesize the future, Hubert guessed that if he saw the blush—a similar affliction could take over him.

Soon, the moment was over. Ferdinand gasped as Hubert removed his palm—and that sound felt oddly provocative to Hubert. It was a sound he wouldn’t _mind_ hearing again. Which was odd considering most sounds from Ferdinand vexed him.

“I think you should rest.” Hubert reached behind Ferdinand to grab the discarded sleeping tunic. As he leaned past Ferdinand, Hubert was surprised when the other noble suddenly pushed the mage toward the bed.

“Ferdinand, what is the—” Hubert barked as he turned his back so that it was facing the bed. Ferdinand had a glazed look on his face and it was undecipherable for Hubert. Ferdinand used his non-injured arm to spread one of Hubert’s legs apart which instinctively made Hubert move the other one apart. As Hubert attempted to move, Ferdinand put one of his hand on Hubert’s shoulder and pushed so that Hubert was lying on his back. Hubert could only see the edge of Ferdinand’s head as he knelt before Hubert, taking his time to unbutton the slacks that the mage wore.

Hubert felt paralyzed as he watched Ferdinand’s hands display a curious tremble. His eyes watched the other noble, as if expecting a monster to appear.

“Black boxers?” Ferdinand whispered. “Not surprising.” Ferdinand’s voice almost seemed completely different. Hubert hadn’t even registered that Ferdinand’s hand was caressing his member through his underwear. As… _pleasant_ as this felt, Hubert knew that it wasn’t right: Ferdinand was vulnerable right now.

“Ferdinand!” Hubert hissed, his tone breaking Ferdinand out of his trance.

“Wait…did you…I…” Ferdinand’s lips trembled, his body crawling away from the bed and toward the desk. “Did I just…completely misread everything…”

“No.” Hubert panted as he adjusted himself in his slacks before buttoning up the pants. “I…You are injured. You are emotionally vulnerable. It would be improper for me to take any type of carnal pleasure from you in this state.”

“But—”

“You talk about nobility, Ferdinand. Would it be noble of someone to take advantage of a heavily intoxicated maid? Or a drowsy soldier?”

“N-No…” Ferdinand muttered, shame cloaking his entire body. “I…wanted to repay my debt.”

“I…” Hubert failed at this task: talking about his _feelings_. He wasn’t supposed to _have_ feelings. He was the right hand to the Empress. He was a glorified weapon made to serve his liege. “If you want to…repay the debt, then I would implore you to seek some rest.” With those words, Hubert moved from the bed and offered his hand to Ferdinand. The other noble shivered before taking the mage’s hand.

“I am sorry for—”

“Do not apologize.” Hubert leaned closer to whisper in the shell of Ferdinand’s ear. “I did not say that I was unsatisfied. Surely you could _feel_ my reaction.” With that innuendo, Ferdinand’s face turned a dark crimson.

“This shall remain between us.” Hubert promised. “We may…talk more once you are healed.” With those words, Hubert left the other noble’s room. Ferdinand would have no direct evidence if he dared to implicate Hubert but _someone_ had snuck back into Ferdinand’s room while he rested to leave behind some sweet buns, fruit-and-herring tarts, saghert and cream, and a large collection of Southern Fruit Blend tea.

* * *

“In the future, I can see us as the left and right hands of Her Highness.” Ferdinand whispered as he laid in Hubert’s bed. Hubert was combing his hands through Ferdinand’s soft hair—wondering if there was a special potion that would lead to such delicate hair—as he nodded in agreement. “You would be the Minister of the Imperial Household known for his melancholy and mercilessness. I would be the bright and compassionate Prime Minister.”

“You have a wild imagination.” Hubert commented as he stared off into the distance. Ferdinand had knocked on Hubert’s door with a bag of coffee beans and asked if he could spend some time with the other mage. Hubert was initially nervous that they would be continuing where Ferdinand left off—but Ferdinand confessed that his heart was racing uncontrollably and nothing else seemed to help calm down the tension in his body.

“Hubert.” Ferdinand slightly tilted his head to face the mage. “Can you answer my next question with utter honesty?”

“I can try.” Hubert answered. He could not betray his liege if Ferdinand asked any prodding questions about—

“I _felt_ what I felt the other day. But…I just wanted to know if you are actually interested in me.” Ferdinand closed his eyes, as if hoping that whatever rejection faced him would disappear with the obstruction of his vision. It almost made Hubert chuckle about how radiantly childish Ferdinand could be.

“I…find it difficult.” Hubert confessed. “I often find your presence to be abhorrent and irritating.” Ferdinand’s body tensed as he started to move away from the other mage.

“I see.” Ferdinand was about to move completely away from Hubert as his voice sounded like it was on the edge of tears.

“You do really annoy me.” Hubert grabbed Ferdinand’s wrist before he could move away more. Inching closer and closer, Hubert leaned over to gently touch Ferdinand’s face. With two fingers, he traced the outline of his nose, admired his freckles, and moved down to his cheeks and then his lips. He could practically hear Ferdinand’s heart beating a mile per minute.

Running a finger back and forth over Ferdinand’s red lips, Hubert let out a soft sigh.

“I never know what to truly say to you.” Hubert admitted. “In battle and in the court, I have back-up plans for my back-up plans. Strategies and tactics come naturally to me like water around the gills of a fish. But when you enter a room with me, I feel this urge to push you away.”

“Push me away?” Ferdinand barely whispered against the finger placed on his lips.

“You are everything I am not, Ferdinand.” Hubert looked away, glancing at the wall separating his room from Edelgard’s room. “You merely pointed it out earlier. I am ruthless. Cold. Merciless. You are kind. Compassionate. Forgiving.”

“I worry that if I stay around you then my coldness might dissipate.” Hubert didn’t notice that his voice had suddenly cracked, as if there was a break between his vocal cords. “Your warmth would be too overwhelming for me. If I stare too long at the sun, then I may become blind. Yet despite that risk and that danger, my thoughts constantly are drawn toward you.”

Leaning even further to grind his forehead against Ferdinand’s forehead, Hubert felt Ferdinand’s breath against his own lips.

“I have accepted my destiny to serve Her Highness. That has been the path cleared for me my whole life. Yet you are this sunlit path that branches away from my original goal. Tell me, Ferdinand, how am I supposed to betray the path that I have so carefully constructed?”

“Hubert.” Ferdinand said. “Look at me, Hubert.” Ferdinand commanded as his eyes locked with Hubert’s eyes. Hubert did little to hide the longing in his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. Shaking his head, Hubert took a breath before leaning down to plant a kiss against Ferdinand’s lips. His cold lips clashed with the feverous sensation on Ferdinand’s lips.

After a moment, they broke away. Hubert wondered how Ferdinand would react. The last time that he was alone with Ferdinand, the other noble had tried to _show_ Hubert something pleasurable.

“Hey.” Ferdinand wrapped his healed arms around Hubert’s neck to pull him closer. He was like ice and Ferdinand was the warmth of the sun, thawing through his exterior. “It is not a bad thing to take a detour. If that detour makes you happy, then you can always reroute to your original path. I doubt that the destinations from this fork in the road are mutually exclusive. If I did not know you better, I would suspect that you are inventing reasons for why we cannot be together.”

“Ferdinand.” Hubert sighed as he found himself burying his face in the other noble’s hair. He used his breath to tickle Ferdinand’s reddening ear. Moving lower, Hubert placed a kiss on the skin underneath Ferdinand’s ear. “There are parts of me that you do not know about. You cannot…I forbid myself from staining the sunlight that you carry.”

“Ha!” Ferdinand exhaled sharply. “You treat me like such a delicate flower despite the fact that, physically, I have superiority over you.” There was a soft silence that coated the two nobles like a blanket as they moved closer to each other. Ferdinand moved his head, as if offering his neck to Hubert. In response, Hubert grabbed Ferdinand and pulled him directly into his lap as he started to nip away at Ferdinand’s neck with his teeth and tongue.

“Do you not think that I have not been exposed to the darkness that Fodlan has to offer?” Ferdinand hissed as pleasure traveled through his back. “When I saw the state of affairs in Hyrm, I confronted my father.” At the mention of the deplorable Duke Aegir, Hubert moved his lips away from Ferdinand’s neck so that they could look directly at each other.

“That is when the first strike came.” Ferdinand’s eyes displayed a familiar battle: the warmth that came naturally to Ferdinand clashed with the coldness of the pain he suffered at the hands of his father. “I suppose it felt like a special herb to my father as he found himself a dozen excuses to strike me over and over again. I started to believe his words that it was to carve me into the strongest leader I could be.”

“Your letter hinted that other soldiers laid their hands on you.” Hubert whispered, his hands trembling with the urge to unleash the strongest dark magic he could channel on those soldiers.

“Yes.” Ferdinand sighed. “It was after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion.” Hubert remembered the three-way melee that had occurred. The new professor’s class had easily won, although the Black Eagles put up a valiant effort. “Our parents attended the battle. My father was displeased by my performance and…” There was a hiccup from Ferdinand’s throat. Feeling the same tickle that he noticed whenever he used his faith-based magic, Hubert drew circles around Ferdinand’s arm as if to calm him.

It seemed to work as Ferdinand cleared his throat. “He stated that I needed to be able to take more strikes if I was to inherit his position. So he instructed a small battalion of Aegir knights to utilize me as their training dummy.”

“That is barbaric.” Hubert commented.

“Perhaps.” Ferdinand shrugged, conflicted between believing the words that Hubert uttered and the words that his father had spat. “I suppose they found me as annoying as you found me since they were more than eager to strike at me.”

“I can find you more annoying than Caspar’s obnoxious yells in battle.” Hubert sighed. “But it would never permit me to put you in such a dangerous situation.”

“Maybe I deserved it.” Ferdinand mumbled. Normally, Ferdinand had an annoyingly high view of himself. Where was this self-deprecation coming from? “I…” There was something blocking Ferdinand from talking which was extremely odd considering the inclination that he had for running his mouth.

“You have reached into my slacks and I have marked your neck with my lips, Ferdinand.” Hubert chuckled. “I cannot suspect that there is something so provocative that you must hesitate to tell me.”

“Caspar had mentioned to me that his father came by during the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion. Count Bergliez left shortly after, but Caspar said that he saw him talking to Edelgard first. Which we both agreed was odd.”

“How so?” Hubert paused his strokes on Ferdinand’s arm. “Count Bergliez is the Minister of Military Affairs.”

“Right.” Ferdinand nodded. “Caspar and I, however, both remembered that Edelgard and Count Bergliez did not get along.” Hubert wondered why Ferdinand was bringing up Caspar and his family. What did that have to do with Ferdinand deserving the treatment he suffered?

“I had noticed that you and Edelgard had been busier than usual.” Ferdinand’s voice dropped, as if he was confessing to stealing a treat from the dining hall. You two were constantly coming and going, in and out, of Garreg Mach. I suspected that you two were doing something in the Empire. I thought that if it was important, I would hear about it as the legitimate heir of the Aegir family.” Hubert had stiffened. There were a few ways this conversation could go and Hubert was _hoping_ that his fears were unfounded.

“Had you not questioned my relationship with Her Highness once before?” Hubert chuckled. “If it is not clear, Ferdinand, my lips desire to taste your skin. Not Her Highness.” His comment definitely prompted a bright red blush from Ferdinand who stumbled over his next few words.

“Ferdinand, not that I want to silence you in this moment, but I am growing confused over how your narrative intersects with this idea that you deserved this treatment by your father.” Hubert did not want to rush Ferdinand, but his anxiety was starting to kick-in. He and Edelgard were always _so_ careful but if someone as oblivious as Ferdinand had noticed that the duo had been sneaking in-and-out of the monastery…

“I did some digging because I wanted to figure out if something was going on.” Ferdinand started. “I knew that my relationship with Edelgard was always contentious due to the incident with my father. But I felt like there was something missing. So with the help of Linhardt, I managed to investigate some of the nobles involved in that insurrection. And that is where I noticed that there was a shadowy presence of something else involved in all of this.”

Hubert’s breath was indefinitely caught in his throat. How close was Ferdinand to discovering the truth? What did this mean—would he have to dispose of Ferdinand?!

“I discovered communication between my father and someone else.” Ferdinand’s voice started to fade as if he was entering a trance. “Something about experiments. I knew that Edelgard once had a lot of siblings but I was told that they all perished due to an illness. Yet this letter seemed to imply that my father had a hand in executing some awful experiments upon the von Hresvelg family.”

“Perhaps.” Hubert was afraid to say more, as if his breath would betray him.

“If…my father is responsible for this atrocious crime.” Ferdinand finally turned his head so he was facing Hubert again. “Then, as his son and as the legitimate heir of the Aegir house, I deserve the punishment from his actions.”

“What?!” Hubert kept his voice as low as he could to avoid pushing Ferdinand off of his lap. “How could you even _think_ that—”

“Nobility is marked by our predecessors.” Ferdinand chuckled sadly. “Have you not said that your father was an awful being for betraying your family’s legacy in serving the Emperor? Surely, you must recognize that as nobles, we are defined not only by the present but by the past and the future.”

“My deplorable father aside,” Hubert exhaled into Ferdinand’s neck, “I hear your commentary. Still, I suspect that your extrapolations are a twisted attempt to justify the pain you suffered at the hands of your father. If your theory about your father turns out to be true, then why should you inherit the price of his crimes?”

“Because that is nobility, Hubert.” Ferdinand sniffed. “We cannot choose the path that preceded our own journey.”

“Correct.” Hubert huffed. “But we can carve a path on our own.” Perhaps quoting Edelgard’s personal philosophy wasn’t entirely appropriate but Hubert felt like he had to reason with Ferdinand _somehow_.

“Hm.” Ferdinand looked down at his thighs. “If you believe that I can carve my own path away from the crimes of my father then why can you not carve a path away from your original goal to be with me?” Hubert was stunned. Had Ferdinand _actually_ outwitted the mage? It was perhaps a game of chess: Ferdinand had exposed several vulnerable sides to his feelings so that Hubert could follow that trail like a shark with blood. Yet, Ferdinand had an answer ready to Hubert’s initial hesitance to delve deeper into his feelings.

“Ferdinand.” Hubert thinned his lips. “I cannot deny that a part of me wants to indulge in your light. But…there are actions at play that are way larger than us. And once all the pieces move, perhaps your feelings for me may no longer—”

“I hate to say that I understand what you are saying, but it is true that we are only youth barely growing into the shoes of our future roles.” Ferdinand ran a hand through Hubert’s hair.

“Ferdinand von Aegir.” Hubert pulled the other boy dangerously close to him as he breathed heavily into the boy’s ear. “I swear upon every fiber in my being that I will carve out the justice that you deserve. That is the only promise I can make to you at this moment. If there is to be a future for us, then I must ask you to wait.”

“Wait for what?” Ferdinand mumbled, his breaths becoming heavy as he melted into Hubert’s embrace. “A divine sign from the Goddess herself?”

“Perhaps.” Hubert chuckled darkly. “When the time comes, you will know. It would be entirely selfish of me to ask this but—”

“Go ahead.”

“Once that moment appears and you realize that you must make a choice…” Hubert choked back another crackle in his voice. “I just…I hope that you can either stand by me. And if you choose not to, then I hope you can remember that I would demolish anyone who dares to lay a hand on you.” That threat sent a shiver down Ferdinand’s back as he leaned back into Hubert’s body.

“How can you be sure that no one else will try to claim me?” Ferdinand teased, moving his lips to brush against Hubert’s lips.

“Because I will mark you so ferociously that any deity would fear to lay a finger on you.” Hubert panted. “You are _mine_.”

“I am _yours_.” Ferdinand panted as his fingers rushed to unbutton the black tunic blocking his access to Hubert’s skin.

* * *

When the siege on the Holy Tomb came to fruition, Hubert only had one regret: the look of pain and betrayal on Ferdinand’s face. Despite the noble’s obliviousness, Hubert trusted that Ferdinand realized that _this_ was the moment. The moment where Ferdinand would have to make his decision.

A part of Hubert already knew the answer. Ferdinand—the noblest of nobles—would _never_ side with the Empire once Edelgard’s decree was disseminated. Ferdinand believed in protecting the underserved and establishing a golden visage to the title of a noble. Edelgard was seeking to destruct that entire system. He did his best to shield the breaking of his heart as he struck down soldiers of the church. He had to remember that despite his longing for the detour—he had a pivotal role to play in supporting Her Highness.

Once Hubert had used his _Warp_ spell to transport himself and Edelgard to safety, he wondered how Ferdinand was faring. The noble had held his own in battle, despite the sheer strength of the Empire. His fighting clearly meant that he had picked the side that Hubert had known—but still wished—that Ferdinand would pick.

When the campaign against the Church had gained the necessary momentum, Edelgard and Hubert devised their secondary plan: to purge corrupt nobles. Hubert had no qualms about hiring the assassins that would steal the life away from his father. Edelgard had kept Duke Aegir alive—as a sign to the other nobles of the political castration that Edelgard was capable of executing. Yet, Hubert regretted that he would have to betray his liege for this promise he made to the one that occupied his heart.

When the news of Duke Aegir’s death reached him, Hubert felt some closure to the open wound in his heart. At least he had fulfilled his end of the promise he had made to Ferdinand. No longer would Ferdinand have to ever share the same air as the wretched excuse of a human who would hurt his own son.

It was a chilly night when Hubert patrolled the grounds of the stronghold that the Imperial army was currently occupying. Everything was going according to plan until Hubert stumbled upon the night guards fast asleep at their posts. At first, Hubert suspected foul play since the guards knew better than to slack off on their duties. His confirmation was confirmed when he noticed several cups of lukewarm tea near the guards.

Someone had spiked the tea with _something_ that likely put the guards to sleep. Hubert could sense danger easily and he made his way to alert Her Highness. If this was an attack—then they had to be ready to retaliate against whatever opposing forces were approaching.

“Would you like some tea, Lord Vestra?” A voice called out to Hubert as he hurried past the main hallway of the stronghold. A part of him wanted to lash out at the page that even _dared_ to interrupt his movements. But every nerve in his body froze when he heard the next words that reached his ear:

“How could I forget? You loathe tea. Coffee is better suited for your caustic tongue.” Hubert spun around and recognized the voice. Despite the heavy cloak covering most of the distinguishing features of the form in front of him, Hubert could recognize that voice. Stepping closer and doing his best to still the trembling in his palm, Hubert pushed back the hood of the cloak.

The familiar smile of Ferdinand von Aegir greeted him.

“Ferdinand.” Hubert hissed. “I…” Realization hit him: was he the one who had drugged the guards? Did that confirm that Ferdinand was here to—

“I can see the gears in your mind spinning rapidly, Hubert.” Ferdinand whispered.

“Why are you here?” Hubert pushed Ferdinand into a darker corner to avoid any detection. “I will not hesitate to strike you down with magic if you are here to—”

“I am here for two reasons.” Ferdinand interrupted Hubert. “First reason I am here is to thank you for fulfilling your promise.” Hubert didn’t need any extra words to know what exactly Ferdinand was referring to: the death of Duke Aegir had spread around like wildfire and it was only a matter of time before Lady Edelgard confronted him.

“And your second reason?” Hubert was dangerously close to grabbing the other man. He wanted to _feel_ him so badly—but this was war and Ferdinand had made his decision. He had fought against the Imperial forces in the Holy Tomb. Hubert had sided with his liege who wanted to dismantle everything that Ferdinand believed in—the guiding light that had carried him so far.

When Ferdinand leaned forward to place his lips against Hubert’s, the reaction was instantaneous. Hubert wrapped his arms around Ferdinand’s neck and pulled him closer so that he could never leave Hubert again. Even if this was just a fleeting moment of passion, Hubert _needed_ to feel Ferdinand. His days had been cold, barren, and empty. That feeling was only accentuated when he realized how warm, full, and light he felt in Ferdinand’s arms. It was the same feeling that he had when he practiced those basic healing spells on injured soldiers. It was the same feeling that would erupt within him when he would place his hand over the scars and bruises on Ferdinand’s body.

“If you could torture yourself to learn faith-based magic for me,” Ferdinand’s eyes twinkled, “if you could torture yourself by being around my _annoying_ presence long enough to discover your feelings for me then—”

“Then?” Hubert let out a soft gasp.

“I want to carve my own path.” Ferdinand panted. “I no longer want to be defined by the crimes of my father and those before him. I want to reinvent the idea of nobility as something that rewards hard work, honesty, and compassion. And above all, I want to be with _you_.”

Looking back, Hubert _finally_ appreciated his studies of faith-based magic. If it hadn’t been for the bright white magic, Hubert’s life would have remained as dark and empty as the spells that he cast against his foes. Ferdinand, to Hubert, was the embodiment of light magic: warm, vulnerable, and supportive. The moon needed the sun to shine, and the sun needed the moon to rest: together, the two nobles would synergize each other to bring out the best in each other.


End file.
